


Tumblr Shorts: pt 2

by annella



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 10:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annella/pseuds/annella
Summary: Short stories about Hanzo and McCree - mostly domestic fluff and a sizeable injection of dragons.





	1. Oral Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> Herein lies a collection of the mini fic I've been posting on Tumblr. Each chapter is self-contained so feel free to pick and choose! I'll be adding to it as more mini fic is written. If it was written for a prompt, the prompt has been included at the very start of each chapter.
> 
> Chapters 1 and 9 are rated M, the rest are G-T.

Prompt: "My favorite headcanon is that Jesse has SUCH and oral fixation. He's chewing on those cigars all the time and if he can't he will stick something else in his mouth - potato crisps, the cord on his hoodie, a necklace he is wearing. It drives Hanzo crazy because Jesse also fucking LOVES sucking cock and damn is he good at it, too. Hanzo will just stare as Jesse sucks on a lollipop or chews on the end of his cigar until Jesse notices and gets this huge sly grin on his face." 

 

It’s become an almost Pavlovian response. Hanzo glares at Jesse across the table in the briefing room and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Morrison drones on in the background, but Hanzo has all but tuned him out in favour of staring at Jesse.

Jesse, who’s practically fellating a lollipop. Hanzo stares fixedly at him as his tongue swirls around the candy, lapping up the sugar and occasionally sliding the whole thing into his mouth to suck on it for a few seconds before drawing it out with an almost audible _pop_.

It hasn’t always been like this – there were days, some time ago, when Hanzo could see Jesse chewing on his cigar or sucking absently on the drawstring of his hoodie without getting hard, but those days are long gone. Ever since Hanzo discovered just how much Jesse loved having things in his mouth, how much he loved having Hanzo’s dick in his mouth, the damned man has been nothing but a tease and a distraction.

The meeting feels like it’s never going to end. Jesse finally notices Hanzo staring at him and _winks_ , sucking the lollipop into his mouth so hard his cheeks hollow out. Hanzo can see the shape of his tongue still moving around inside his mouth, licking and stroking the hard candy, and when Jesse pulls it out again and licks his lips, his tongue stained red from the sugar, Hanzo bites his lip to prevent himself from letting out a groan.

All he can think about is getting back to their shared room and yanking his pants down enough to free his cock. Jesse will fall to his knees, eyes wide and expression needy as he nuzzles Hanzo’s groin, his tongue darting out to caress the base of his cock. He’ll start slow, teasing, small delicate licks up the shaft before kissing the head and smoothly lapping up the drops of precome that Hanzo, to his shame, can already feel forming at the head. He’ll look up at Hanzo and _wink_ before opening his mouth wide and swallowing him down to the base, his tongue working the head and shaft and–

“Is that understood, Shimada?” Morrison growls, and Hanzo sits up straight in his seat.

“Yes,” he responds, having no idea what he’s just agreed to. Across the table, Jesse winks at him and licks his lips again.


	2. Cats

Hanzo is a cat person. When he was small, he was given a tiny black kitten as a gift from his father, and he fell in love immediately. With the wisdom and unique talent of a four-year-old, he called her _Kuroneko_ (black cat), a name which stuck and which Hanzo insisted upon keeping. The cat was his companion for many years, and he was devastated when she died at the ripe old age of eighteen. It’s one of the best memories he has of his father – kneeling on the floor together, playing with Kuro and laughing at her antics.

Quite a few of the agents at the base have pets – Morrison has a giant golden retriever he picked up somewhere and takes for a run every morning, Lucio has a cage full of hamsters, Zarya has an improbably tiny bichon frise, and Satya has a white cat with eyes like blue jewels who is almost as elegant as she is. So when Hanzo is out picking up supplies and sees a small, scruffy brown cat in the window of a pet store, he doesn’t even think twice.

McCree is enamoured with his gift. “She reminded me of you,” Hanzo says, amused, as McCree gently approaches her until she lets him pick her up. He laughs softly, holding her gently and nuzzling her with his beard. She seems to enjoy that, and reaches out a paw to bap him on the face.

“Darlin, I love her,” he says, his voice full of emotion. Hanzo grins widely as McCree deposits her on their bed and lies down next to her, stroking her with a hand which looks huge in comparison. “I probably should have mentioned that I’m allergic, though.”

Hanzo’s eyes widen. “What? I’m sorry! I’ll just–” He reaches over to pick the cat up, wondering if he can ask Satya if she can stay with her, but McCree stops him.

“No, it’s –” he sneezes loudly, making the cat startle – “it’s okay! I’ll deal with it!” He sits up, sneezing several more times and scratching his arms. “I’ll just go see Angela and pick up some – _achoo!_ – antihistimines.”

McCree always loved animals, cats in particular. He’s never had a chance to have a pet before, and always consoled himself that he’s allergic so it’s probably a good thing. He’s not giving little Tumbleweed up anytime soon, though.


	3. Injury

Prompt: "McCree loses his prosthetic and has to deal with the aftermath."

 

Hanzo eventually finds Jesse in the communal showers at the shooting range. He’s sitting on the floor with his knees up to his chest, stark naked, the water running over his body as he stares at the tiles.

“Jesse?”

Jesse looks up, despair clouding his face. He glances away quickly, looking embarrassed at being caught like this, and Hanzo frowns as he enters and sits down just outside the shower area.

“Are you alright?” he asks. It’s obvious that Jesse is _not_ alright, but it’s an opening.

“My arm,” Jesse says quietly, his voice rough. He swipes his remaining hand over his face clumsily.

“Yes, I heard.” Hanzo had gone to find Jesse as soon as he’d been told that Angela had been forced to remove the metal prosthetic, but he’d been long gone by then. “Winston is making you a new one, yes? It should only be a few days and then –”

“But I’m fuckin’ _useless_ until then!” Jesse snaps. “I can’t even stand up straight! I can barely hold my gun proper, can’t shoot for shit, can’t reload–”

Hanzo nods. This explains the bullets strewn all over the floor of the shooting range. “And? You’re out of commission for a few days, it’s not like Winston will send you on missions.” He can’t figure out what Jesse is so upset about.

“I can’t do _anything_ ,” Jesse says softly, his voice cracking. “Can’t dress myself, can’t wash my hair properly, can’t even get a fuckin’ towel around myself.”

Hanzo realises. “This is the first time you have been without your arm,” he murmurs. Jesse has always been independent; it must be a terrible blow to him to have to rely on others to help him do simple things.

“I got used to it,” Jesse says. “Big ol’ ugly thing that it is. Weighs a ton, too. Near fell over when I stood up after Angie removed it.”

Hanzo considers for a moment before starting to remove his own clothes. Jesse stares at him dully, any of his usual interest in Hanzo disrobing buried by his pain. Once he’s naked, Hanzo leans over into the shower to pull the seat down before sitting and removing his metal legs. He slides himself clumsily over towards Jesse and indicates the stumps of his legs ending just below the knee.

“I am incapable of walking without aid,” he says quietly. “I can get around, true, but it is undignified, uncomfortable, and slow. I would require assistance if I was to go without my prosthetics for any period of time.” He looks down at Jesse and reaches a hand out. “If that were the case, would you aid me?”

Jesse nods, a small smile forming on his face, and takes Hanzo’s hand.


	4. Confessions

Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where Hanzo kicks down a door just to tell McCree that he's an idiot and he loves him." 

 

It’s incredibly late; McCree is almost asleep after spending a lonely evening watching old movies on his tablet. A few of the others had been having some drinks, but McCree had had a difficult mission and his arm was aching something fierce. Also, Hanzo hadn’t been there, and McCree didn’t think any gathering was worth attending if it didn’t result in Hanzo getting tipsy and draping himself all over McCree.

He was getting terribly mixed messages from the archer. With a little bit of liquid courage, Hanzo would talk to him all night and seem to be flirting – a hand on his arm, leaning in close to murmur in his ear, staring at him from across the room if they were parted. Then the next day he’d get the cold shoulder – glares at the breakfast table, grunted responses to attempts at conversation, and ignored requests to train together. It’s doing McCree’s head in.

McCree is taken aback when he suddenly hears a pounding at his door. His musing interrupted, he sits bolt upright and calls, “who is it?”

“Me,” a gravelly voice responds. It’s Hanzo. McCree sighs; he’s tired, and he doesn’t think he can deal with Hanzo’s hot and cold behaviour towards him right now.

“It’s a bit late. I’m not–”

The door bursts open and McCree stares at the shape standing in the doorway, his leg still out from having kicked the door down. Actually literally kicked the damn thing off its hinges.

“What the _fuck_ ,” McCree growls. Hanzo stalks in, glaring down at the door, which he lifts off the floor and props back into the gap. “Hanzo. It’s late.”

“You were not at the drinks,” Hanzo states. He’s swaying slightly; McCree guesses he showed up late and made up for lost time.

“Yeah, uh.” McCree rubs the back of his neck.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Hanzo sits down on the edge of the bed, McCree quickly shifting his legs out of the way. “You are an idiot.”

McCree scoffs. “Yeah, darlin’, we all know that. Was there something new you wanted to tell me?” He looks away; the smell of alcohol is strong on Hanzo’s breath, the fumes emanating from his entire body. He doesn’t want to have to deal with Hanzo’s alcohol-fueled affection right now.

“You are an idiot, and I love you.”

McCree blinks. “Uh. What?”

Hanzo growls. “You are an _idiot_ and I _love you_. Must I repeat myself again?”

“But – you ignore me!” McCree bleats in confusion. “You don’t like me! You only like me when you’re drunk!”

“Yes.” Hanzo sighs. “I am only brave enough to show you how I feel when I am drunk.” He leans in close, the smell of sake strong enough to make McCree’s eyes water. “I am very drunk, and I am in love with you.” He clumsily bumps his lips against McCree’s, and McCree responds momentarily before drawing back, his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Wait,” he says softly. “You’re drunk.”

“I know!” Hanzo snaps impatiently. “I already explained!”

“Well, uh, why don’t you just lie down here next to me?” McCree suggests. “Then in the morning, when you’re sober, you can tell me again.”

“Will you believe me then?” Hanzo asks, his voice petulant. He leans heavily against McCree, the alcohol obviously taking its toll.

“Yeah,” McCree says, “I will.”

“Mm k.” Hanzo rests his forehead against McCree’s shoulder and a few seconds later, he’s snoring. McCree sighs and clumsily shifts the archer around so he’s lying next to him, and switches the bedside light out. It’ll be interesting to see what happens in the morning.

 

It’s a beautiful morning. McCree stretches and yawns, rolling over to see how Hanzo is doing.

The bed next to him is empty, and McCree sits up, glancing around in confusion. He’s about to get up and go searching for the man when he hears the sound of retching from the bathroom. He winces and waits a few minutes until it sounds like Hanzo is done, then slides out of bed and knocks on the bathroom door.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I am alive,” comes the pathetic sounding reply.

“Still love me?”

There’s a pause, then Hanzo replies. “Yes. But only if you get me some water.”

McCree chuckles. “Coming right up.”


	5. Guides

Prompt: "I wish you would write a fic answering the question "what exactly are dragons?" The answer isn't what you might expect."

 

“What are _those_?” McCree yelled, flattening himself against the side of the building as the two giant, blue spectral forms rushed past him, shrieking and wailing. The Talon operatives in their way crumpled to the ground, and McCree stared at their lifeless bodies, which until recently had been shooting at them.

“They are my power,” Hanzo replied quietly from behind him. McCree turned to look at him, seeing the blue glow fade from his tattoo.

“Damn,” he replied softly, and whistled. “They’re something else.”

 

“What are they, really?” McCree asked later on, as they returned to the base. Hanzo was sitting next to him on the carrier, silent and thoughtful.

“They represent morality,” Hanzo replied. “They are not a threat to the team; they trust who I trust. You need not fear them.”

“I don’t fear them, I–” McCree stopped. “They were just really pretty, is all.”

Hanzo chuckled. “I suppose they were.”

 

“No, really, what are they?” McCree asked a few days later when he found Hanzo on the couch in the common room, his arms full of blue dragons. He seemed to be stroking them like they were cats; McCree could have sworn he heard purring.

Hanzo glanced over him and smiled softly, shifting over a little to let McCree sit down next to him. “Would you like to touch them?” he asked.

McCree nodded and stretched a hand out, a little fearful of what he’d find. “I thought they were spectral,” he said, and was surprised when his hand met soft flesh covered in warm scales.

“They usually are,” Hanzo said, “but they are able to manifest physically when they want.”

“They’re beautiful,” McCree breathed, and laughed softly when he scratched one of them under the chin and it leaned over to him, batting him gently with its paw.

“They are my friends,” Hanzo murmured, as wide a smile on his face as McCree had ever seen.

 

McCree woke late at night to find Hanzo had left his bed and was sitting on the floor in a meditative position. Though there were no lights on, the room was lit up by the blue glow of the dragons. They shifted and coiled around Hanzo as he knelt on the floor, lost in thought, and McCree simply watched for a few minutes, loath to interrupt.

“I know you are there,” Hanzo said softly, and McCree smiled.

“Can’t hide anything from those two,” he replied. “Do they help you meditate?”

Hanzo nodded. “They are my spiritual guides.” He opened his eyes and looked up at McCree. “They guided me to you.”

McCree smiled so wide he thought his face might crack. “You better thank them for me, darlin’.”

“I already have,” Hanzo said, his smile matching McCree’s.


	6. Laughter

Prompt: I wish you would write a fix where Hanzo laughs so hard he snorts and McCree is so distracted by the sound he walks into a wall :3 

 

Hanzo didn’t laugh much. McCree knew this; he kept an ear out for it. He occasionally let out a soft chuckle, the sound mocking and scornful, but McCree had never heard him laugh in genuine amusement. He didn’t know if it was because the man didn’t quite understand the jokes some of the team members told, or if he simply didn’t care for them, but either way it was starting to drive McCree mad

It was worse when they finally stopped stepping around one another and eventually started sharing quarters. McCree was determined to make Hanzo laugh, but to no avail. His best (worst) jokes fell flat, Hanzo wasn’t even slightly ticklish, and the most he could coax out of him was a smile.

A gorgeous, soft, incredibly kissable smile, but still.

McCree eventually became used to it. He was head over heels in love with the man, and Hanzo had even confessed to feeling the same. McCree liked to think back on that night when he was feeling down; the memory of Hanzo’s rough voice in his ear whispering those three words could sustain him through the worst missions.

Thus, he was taken completely off-guard when he was heading to the kitchen one day and saw Hanzo and Genji sitting together at the table in the common room. They were talking softly in Japanese, a language in which McCree could still only pick one word in ten, and then _it_ happened, just as he was walking past them.

He had no idea what Genji had said, but the sound of Hanzo’s laughter was music to McCree’s ears. As he’d always suspected, it was soft and rough, a low chuckle which, to McCree’s delight, quickly became a full-throated laugh. He glanced over to see Hanzo with his head thrown back, his eyes closed as he guffawed so hard he snorted.

McCree couldn’t stop staring; so much so that he walked into the still-closed kitchen door.

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his nose. He’d whacked it hard, and he squeezed it to try to mitigate the pain, glancing over to see if Hanzo and Genji had noticed.

Two faces stared at him, both of them completely expressionless. Well, Hanzo’s was, and he assumed Genji mirrored his brother. As his eyes watered and he frowned at them, Hanzo’s lip twitched.

“Hanzo–” McCree started, but didn’t get any further words out before laughter burst out from Hanzo’s chest. The sound echoed through the room, snorts intermingled with peals of laughter, as Hanzo damn near fell off his chair and wiped tears from his eyes.

“So that’s all it takes,” McCree said mournfully. “Good to know…”


	7. Treats

Prompt: "Right so I think you should write about the noodles (because I love noodle dragons)! Jesse is enamoured by them and one takes to him right away, rolling on its back and letting Jesse rub his tummy and scratch his ears (Hanzo just sighs). But the other noodle gives Jesse the cold shoulder, even snaps at his fingers when he tries for a pat and, more worryingly, wraps itself around Hanzo and won't let Jesse close when he's around. But he's gotta win the noodle over somehow, right?"

 

Hanzo didn’t understand it himself. When he introduced Jesse to his dragons, one of them had been instantly enamoured with the man. Jesse had found himself on the floor with a large, blue dragon coiled around him, rubbing his head under Jesse’s chin and purring loudly as he had his belly rubbed by an ecstatic cowboy.

The other one hissed and spat.

_What is it?_ Hanzo sent his thought out to the recalcitrant dragon, who had wrapped himself tightly around Hanzo’s arm and was refusing to budge.

_Don’t like!_

_Why?_

_Don’t like!_ The dragon punctuated the thought with another hiss and leaped from Hanzo’s arm to Jesse, where he proceeded to sink his teeth into his hand.

“Ow!” Jesse yelped, pulling back. “What gives?” The other dragon – the friendly one – glared at his sibling, and Hanzo heard a muttered conversation between them, too quick for him to catch what they were saying. Jesse glanced up at Hanzo, a mournful look on his face. “He doesn’t like me.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “He’s being stupid.” He glared down at the dragon before picking him up. _No treats for you tonight_.

The dragon keened loudly and batted ineffectively at Hanzo, which gave him an idea.

 

“Are you sure? He really don’t like me.” Jesse stood a good distance away from Hanzo, one dragon purring contendly on his shoulder, the other one glaring at him from his perch on Hanzo’s shoulder. It was like some kind of old Western standoff, and Hanzo was the only one with a weapon.

“He must learn to like you,” Hanzo said firmly. “Otherwise he will not be allowed to share the bed.”

“They’re gonna be sharing the bed?” Jesse, distracted by this prospect, looked down at the dragon on his shoulder and scratched him under the chin. The purring intensified, and Jesse smiled.

“Only if they behave. Now, come here.”

Jesse approached cautiously, staying out of range of the sharp teeth, and held out his hand. In it was a piece of chocolate, one of the dragons’ favourite treats. The one on Jesse’s shoulder perked up instantly, and Hanzo murmured an instruction to _stay_. The other one, however, he nudged carefully. _Go on._

He immediately glared, hissed, spit. Jesse flinched but managed to keep his hand steady as the dragon slithered down Hanzo’s arm and towards Jesse. He snuffled around for a moment, acquainting himself with Jesse’s scent, and then _snap!_ The chocolate was gone.

“Okay, can I–” Jesse started, but cut himself off when the dragon started to slide up his arm. “Oh– okay,” he said carefully, not moving an inch as the dragon coiled itself around his waist, nuzzling his shirt and towards the pockets of his jeans. “What is he doing?”

_More!_ Hanzo heard from the dragon. _More tasty!_ He stifled a laugh.

“He wants more chocolate.” _Only if you give him a chance._

The dragon let out an excited yip and nuzzled Jesse’s hand, letting out a soft and begrudging purr. Hanzo breathed a sigh of relief.

“I guess I’m gonna be carrying chocolate everywhere I go,” Jesse noted. At this, both dragons perked up and began emitting high-pitched yips and whines, and Hanzo sighed.

“Please do not get them started,” he said in a pained voice, and Jesse laughed.


	8. Language

“Hanzo! Are you alright?”

Hanzo blinked, rubbing his face. The stars slowly faded from his vision, and he sat up to find Mercy and Genji on either side of him. “What happened?”

“You got knocked off the roof,” Genji supplied. Hanzo shifted uncomfortably, feeling the ache in his lower body, and winced when he touched a sizeable lump on the side of his head.

“How are you feeling?” Mercy asked, peering intently at him.

“Finer than frog’s hair,” Hanzo mumbled, still dazed from the fall.

“What?” Mercy asked, confused, while Genji let out a choked sound.

“What?” Hanzo had no idea what was going on, but he would really like to lie down right now. As he closed his eyes and lay back down, he heard Genji burst into peals of laughter. What was so amusing? he wondered, but did not think much on it. His head was really very sore.

 

“Will you be able to get back to the carrier alright?” Mercy asked. She was glancing around nervously, and Hanzo could hear the yells of their teammates in battle not far away.

“You need to get back to them. I will make it. If the creek don’t rise.” Hanzo shifted his weight, leaning on Genji, and almost fell over when his brother buckled and burst out laughing again. “Genji! What is wrong with you?”

Genji coughed, making what seemed to be an astronomical effort to stop laughing. “Nothing, brother. Come, we will be fine. It is not far.”

“You are acting very strangely,” Hanzo muttered. He was feeling decidedly dizzy, and was looking forward to getting back to the carrier where it would be quiet and cool.

 

“Is he okay?” McCree burst into the carrier, looking around frantically for Hanzo. His lover was propped up in a seat with an icepack on his head, and he looked over at the sound of McCree’s voice.

“Oh, thank god,” McCree said, rushing over to sit next to him. “Here, lemme hold that for you, darlin’.” He took the icepack from Hanzo’s hand and gently touched it to the side of his head.

“I am fine,” Hanzo said with a sigh. “I was clumsy. Overconfident.”

“You look rough,” McCree noted.

“I have been rode hard and put away wet,” Hanzo mumbled, leaning into McCree’s touch. McCree froze.

“What did you say, sweetheart?” he asked, blinking in confusion. Surely Hanzo hadn’t–

“I don’t know!” Hanzo snapped. “I have bumped my head, please just let me sit here quietly.”

“O’ course,” McCree replied, putting an arm around his shoulders and grinning widely. No wonder Genji had been laughing so hard when he told McCree what had happened.

He supposed their secret was out, now.


	9. Hung

Hanzo is _hung_. Seriously. McCree hadn’t really known what to expect, and when Hanzo unties his belt and lets his pants fall to the floor, McCree’s eyes widen comically.

“McCree?” Hanzo queries, looking concerned and a little embarrassed, “are you alright?”

McCree gulps and sits down on the bed, taking Hanzo by the hips and tugging him closer. He’s not even fully hard, just starting to thicken up, and McCree’s mouth waters a little, his own dick already completely hard just from the view. “I’m fine, I just–” He cuts himself off and leans in to nuzzle Hanzo’s erection.

“You were expecting something smaller,” Hanzo notes, his voice harsh and breathy as McCree takes in as much as he can. Not that there’s any way he’ll be able to get all of that in his mouth, but he’s going to try.

McCree pulls off with a pop. “Nah, ’s just – _damn_ , sweetheart. Can’t believe you’ve been hiding this for so long.” He goes down again, opening his mouth as wide as he can and moaning when he feels Hanzo getting harder, thicker, in his mouth.

“Why do you – oh _fuck_ – why do you think I wear such loose trousers?” Hanzo asks, his fingers tangling in McCree’s hair, holding him still as he thrusts his hips a little.

McCree blinks. He hadn’t thought of that. He looks up at his partner, who has a fond look on his flushed face. Despite wanting to keep going, McCree pulls off again. “Seriously?”

Hanzo nods, twitching as he tries to guide his dick back into McCree’s mouth. “Anything tighter can be … embarrassing. Especially when I, uh.” He stops, glances away.

“What?” McCree asks, wrapping both hands around Hanzo’s ridiculously large dick and stroking him.

“Battle can be … uh.” Hanzo closes his eyes as McCree licks the head of his cock. “ _Invigorating_.”

McCree grins. “Aww, darlin’, you ain’t the first one to pop a boner during battle.” He sucks the head into his mouth, teasing the slit with his tongue and tasting the first hint of salt. “Happens to the best of us.”

Hanzo grunts. “Still.” He glances over at his loose trousers, abandoned on the floor. “I am just glad I can get away with such loose trousers.”

McCree groans at the idea of Hanzo in tight jeans. He files that away for another time; perhaps if they get a chance to go on a date.

“Besides,” Hanzo continues, “at least I get to admire you in _your_ tight trousers.”

McCree looks up to see Hanzo grinning widely. He’s about to speak again, perhaps defend his choice of battle attire, when Hanzo grips him tightly by the jaw. “Open up,” he wheedles, and McCree gets straight back to work.


	10. Flight

Jesse fell in love with Hanzo on a Saturday.

The mission wasn’t going well. They were pinned down, backup too far away, and Hanzo had already exhausted his dragons. Jesse was in a bad way, one leg broken and a deep pain in his chest which spoke of at least two broken ribs. Hanzo had done his best, splinting the broken limb using a plank of wood and the ribbon from his hair.

Jesse was in a haze of pain, unable to concentrate on anything besides how much he hurt, but he lifted his fingers to Hanzo’s hair hanging loose around his face and smiled.

“I must get you out of here,” Hanzo muttered under his breath, checking to see if their enemy was still searching for them. It wasn’t far to the pickup point, but Jesse couldn’t walk, even with Hanzo’s aid. The break was bad, his pants sticky with blood where the bone had snapped, and Hanzo growled softly to himself.

“Cavalry’s ‘ere!”

Hanzo jolted himself at the sound of Tracer’s voice in the comm, and moments later they heard her rapid gunfire. “Making you an opening, run for it! I’ve got you covered!”

Hanzo looked at Jesse, whose eyes were glazed with pain, his face pale and sweating. There was nothing for it.

Jesse cried out in agony as Hanzo lifted him, doing his best to cradle his broken leg gently. One arm under his knees and the other at his back, the archer didn’t even grunt from effort as he stood up with Jesse in his arms.

“I must run. Will you be alright?”

Jesse nodded, slinging an arm over Hanzo’s shoulders, marveling at his strength. He knew he wasn’t exactly lightweight, especially with his armour and the pounds he’d stacked on as he approached middle age, but Hanzo didn’t seem to notice at all.

And as they ran for it, Jesse knew he was in love.


	11. Wax

Prompt: "Another case scenario is that everybody kind of assumes that Hanzo shaves/waxes his chest, including Jesse, but then they actually get together and he finds out that Hanzo just does not? So Jesse asks him and they have this a bit awkward conversation, because turns out Hanzo is just naturally like this and it turns out he is also low key jealous of and in love with Jesse's hairy fluffy tits heheh."

 

Jesse spent a lot of time with Hanzo in the days after they got together. They were joined at the hip, in the manner of new couples: they ate together, went on missions together, trained together, and slept together. Rarely did they leave each other’s side.

It was pretty damned amazing, if you asked Jesse. He got to experience all of Hanzo – sleepy, frustrated, sad, excited, you name it. He particularly enjoyed watching Hanzo get ready in the morning. The man could spend up to fifteen minutes simply getting his hair tied back neatly with the little white wings at his temples perfectly placed. He spent forever carefully trimming his beard and shaving off the stray hairs ever so neatly.

Jesse was enamoured. All he did in the morning was finger comb his hair and maybe run the clippers over his face if he was getting too shaggy.

It had been weeks, though, and despite spending every spare minute with Hanzo – he’d even moved his necessary stuff into Hanzo’s room – he was a little confused about when Hanzo found the time to wax his chest.

It was smooth as silk, not a hair on it, and Jesse very much enjoyed running his fingers – not to mention his tongue – over it. Hanzo was very sensitive, and a mere squeeze of his pec could get him worked up.

Not knowing how he managed to keep it so smooth drove Jesse to distraction. He finally got up the nerve to ask one night when they were in bed, relaxed and sleepy after a long afternoon of training followed by a rousing session of shower sex.

“Hanzo?”

“Hmm?” Hanzo’s voice was on the edge of sleep, and Jesse took a deep breath.

“How do you keep your chest so smooth?”

There was a pause, then a rustle as Hanzo rolled over to face him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, y’know.” Jesse gestured vaguely. “I never see you waxing or shaving it.”

Another heavy pause, then Hanzo answered, his voice tight. “Not all of us were blessed with chest hair, you know.”

Jesse sat bolt upright. “Wait, you mean you just don’t have any? I thought you were sneaking away to wax it!”

Hanzo growled. “No, I do not have any. Can we leave it, please? I am fully aware of how unmanly it is.” His voice was quiet, and he turned back to face the wall again.

“Oh, shit, no,” Jesse babbled, realising his error, “darlin’, I love it.” He shifted closer, curling around Hanzo’s back and sliding his hand over the smooth skin of his chest. “I was gonna ask yer advice on getting rid of it. I mean, I’m real shaggy.”

Hanzo choked back what sounded like a laugh. “If you shave your chest, I will break up with you,” he muttered.

Jesse burst out laughing and pulled Hanzo back over to face him. “Sweetpea, for you I’ll stay as shaggy as ever.”


	12. Dreams

McCree gets nightmares. He dreams of gibbets, crows, dark blood staining bright sand. It’s rare for him to get a full night of sleep, and he frequently delays going to bed in the hopes that exhaustion will hold the dark dreams off.

It doesn’t work.

He tries sleeping pills from Angela, and all they do is make it harder to wake from the horrors stalking his dreams. He gets up in the night and drinks tea, herbal teas and black teas and any tea Mei and Lucio suggest to help him relax. They help him fall asleep quicker, and dream more.

Hanzo helps, although he doesn’t know it. McCree hasn’t even told him about the nightmares yet. He wakes at night with a gasp and Hanzo is there, tucked up next to him, his hair soft on McCree’s shoulder and his breath warm against his cheek. His presence is grounding, comforting, and McCree’s able to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

Hanzo knows. He hears McCree’s quickened breath and feels his twitching limbs. He doesn’t know what the dreams are about, doesn’t ask, but he slides closer and puts his arm around McCree’s chest. It seems to calm him, and when Hanzo wakes again later, it’s usually to McCree’s soft snoring in his ear and the steady warmth of his body pressed against Hanzo’s back.


	13. First Impressions

Prompt: "Mchanzo 'how they first met' headcanon: Hanzo arrives at the Overwatch base, one of the agents is showing around when BAM here comes McCree, drunk as a skunk and stumbling into whatever hallway/room they are currently occupying. He pukes. He calls Hanzo pretty. He may or may not pass out/ curl up on the floor and fall asleep directly afterwards. Thoughts?"

 

“Remember the first time we met?” McCree said drowsily, his head nestled in Hanzo’s neck. His beard was pleasantly scratchy, and his breath was warm against Hanzo’s skin. The night air was cool, and the pleasant weight of McCree next to him was comforting.

Hanzo frowned. “How could I forget?” He’d been sweaty and exhausted, having just spent the past day travelling, but that was nothing compared to how McCree looked.

“Y’looked so good,” McCree mumbled, “your hair was loose, just coming back from training. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“What?” Hanzo looked down at the man curled up against him. “That was not our first meeting.”

McCree made a noise of confusion. “Whaddaya mean?”

Hanzo stifled a chuckle. “We met several days before that. Don’t you remember?”

McCree froze, and Hanzo continued.

“I had just arrived at Overwatch. Lena was showing me around. Then we came across you, stumbling down the hall, as drunk as a skunk. When you saw me you tripped over, called me pretty, and passed out.”

“No,” McCree whispered, “no, oh god, I thought I dreamed that!” He curled in on himself, hiding his face, and Hanzo laughed softly.

“I can’t say you made a good first impression, but clearly you have grown on me since.”

McCree groaned and Hanzo, still laughing, pulled him up for a kiss.


	14. Sleep

Hanzo isn’t really the affectionate type. He’s fine to hold hands and let Jesse hug him every so often, and he’s definitely a fan of kissing and everything else that follows, but he’s more comfortable having his own personal space. Jesse’s fine with this; he knows Hanzo loves him and he’s happy to get the occasional brush of fingertips in public and maybe a hug if no one’s around.

But when Hanzo’s sleepy, all bets are off. One night they’re watching TV with the squad and Hanzo falls asleep on Jesse’s shoulder. He wriggles around and grunts softly in his sleep, sliding his arm around Jesse’s middle and burying his face in his shoulder. It’s adorable and Jesse doesn’t move for fear of waking him up. Hanzo half-wakes a couple of times, glancing up and looking confused for a moment before settling back into position, his warm breath on Jesse’s neck and his beard scratchy against his skin.

When the movie’s finished Jesse waits for everyone else to leave – Hana already has several blackmail photos – before gently waking Hanzo up. He’s pliant and loose and warm, and his dark eyes are soft when he looks at Jesse. Without a word, he holds his arms out and Jesse picks him up to carry him to bed.


	15. In Sickness

Prompt: "Okay okay so Hanzo is sick with a cold and he turns into the biggest baby and Genji is laughing his head off and recounting all the times Hanzo got sick as kids while Jesse makes soup. When Jesse gets back to their room it's dark and he flicks on the desk lamp to see nothing but a blanket cocoon and black tufts poking out the top and miserable noises emitted from within. Sad sick Dragon." 

 

“One time he wandered into a meeting Father was having and he was wearing nothing but tighty whities.”

Jesse snorted as he stirred the pot. “Now you’re just shitting me,” he said, imagining a small Hanzo stumbling around in just his underwear, out of his mind with fever.

“I am not! I have photos. Well, not of the actual event, but of Hanzo being escorted back to his room by our mother. She was trying to tell him off but she couldn’t stop laughing.”

Stifling a chuckle, Jesse spooned out some of the soup to test the temperature. He nodded and carefully poured it into a bowl. “You gonna help or just laugh at your poor brother’s pain?” He indicated the plate of buttered toast next to the stove, and Genji shrugged.

“I will help. But only so I can mock him some more.”

“He’s sick!”

“He’s a baby. It’s just a cold.”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, laughing softly as he carefully carried the bowl of soup towards his quarters, “I think it is.”

 

It was dark in their quarters. Unwilling to disturb Hanzo by turning the main light on, Jesse slowly navigated the minefield that was their bedroom floor and placed the soup on the bedside table. Genji was laughing in the doorway, and Jesse shushed him before going and grabbing the plate of toast.

“Go on then, get,” he said grumpily, feeling like Genji was being perhaps a little bit mean.

Genji glanced into the bedroom. “Oh!” he said, sounding surprised. “He must be sick. He never lets _them_ in the bed with him.

Hanzo was rolled up in the covers like a burrito, only a tangle of black hair visible and the faces of his two dragons peeking out from under the covers next to his shoulder. Jesse smiled to see the dragons curled around him, no doubt providing him some comfort in his misery, and closed the door in Genji’s face.


	16. Trust

Prompt: "So right Hanzo just seems to nap anywhere. Always sitting or standing with crossed arms and just nods off. Jesse thinks it's wild and Genji laughs at him and tells him Hanzo once stayed awake in the same position for fourteen hours during a lecture - he only lets himself sleep like this around you, dummy. And McCree is so stunned and sure enough everyone's always talking about how Hanzo never takes a break with them but here he is napping beside Jesse like nothing's wrong. Hanzo trusts him."

 

The first time it happens is when they’re on the carrier on the way back to Gibraltor after a mission. Tracer and Mei are up in the cockpit, leaving Jesse alone with Hanzo in the main body of the aircraft. Jesse’s exhausted, and he pulls his hat down over his face, stretches his legs out, and promptly falls asleep. He wakes after a short time to find that Hanzo has settled next to him, head on Jesse’s shoulder, fast asleep and snoring very quietly. He doesn’t move for the rest of the trip, and pretends to be asleep when he feels Hanzo jerk awake as they begin to land.

He notices it happen more often after that. Hanzo seems to be able to sleep anywhere, and Jesse begins finding him asleep in the oddest places. At the practice range, waiting for his turn. Sitting at the table in the kitchen with a mug of tea in front of him. On the roof of the Watchpoint, leaning against a wall with his eyes closed.

His teammates don’t seem to notice. “He never rests!” Mei says with a hint of awe in her voice as she watches Hanzo at the practice range. He’s just shot ten arrows in perfect succession, and Jesse’s pretty damn impressed with his marksmanship, as usual.

“What do you mean?” Jesse asks, confused.

“Hanzo. I’ve never seen him rest. I don’t know how he keeps his scores so high. I’m not sure he ever even _sleeps_.”

Jesse blinks and hums thoughtfully. “You don’t say,” he replies carefully.

He notices more, after that. How Hanzo only ever dozes off when he’s around his brother or Jesse. Jesse can’t help but admire the absolute stillness of Hanzo at rest – he supposes it’s a trick snipers learn quickly. It’s starting to become a thing – whenever Jesse is by himself, Hanzo will inevitably show up, greet Jesse, and fall asleep in his vicinity.

“Why’s he doing that?” Jesse asks one day. He and Genji are in the garden, pruning the tomato plants, and Hanzo is kneeling in the corner, apparently meditating but definitely fast asleep.

“He always has,” Genji says with a shrug. “He can stay awake for a long time – fourteen hours during a lecture, once! That was amazing – but he only sleeps around people he trusts.” He looks directly at Jesse, the green glow of his visor intense. “That means he trusts you.”

Jesse can’t stop the wide smile that covers his face, and he glances over at Hanzo. Very slowly, so Genji won’t notice, Hanzo raises his head and winks at Jesse before closing his eyes again.


	17. Hair

Prompt: "Have I told you about Jesse's obsession with Hanzo's hair?! Like he will find himself just stroking it as they lie together in bed, watching it slide between his fingers like water. He is forever brushing that lock of hair out of Hanzo's face, pushing it behind his ear before he kisses him. In the shower he loves to wash it for Hanzo, hear Hanzo sigh in delight as Jesse massages his head. Then combs it out before they go to bed. He will wrap it around his fingers, breathe in the smell, smile."

 

Hanzo never realised just how amazing it could be to have his hair played with. He’d always tied it back, utilitarian, out of the way, and frequently considered just getting it all cut off sometimes. It would be better for his work, but – and he would never admit this to anyone, he would rather _die_ first – as it was, it completely fit with his aesthetic.

Aesthetic was incredibly important to Hanzo.

Jesse seemed to have a _thing_ for his hair. Hanzo had frequently caught him admiring it, even before they got together, and once Jesse knew he could touch Hanzo however he wanted, all bets were off.

Sitting together in the carrier before and after missions, Jesse’s arm would be around his shoulders, his fingers playing idly with the ends of his hair. In the evenings when they were watching movies, Hanzo’s head on Jesse’s lap, Jesse would comb his fingers through it, separating out a lock and curling it around his finger over and over. It never failed to lull Hanzo to sleep.

In the shower, Hanzo was always quite willing to surrender the task of washing his hair to Jesse. He would close his eyes and lean back, the hot water hitting his chest, as Jesse’s strong fingers carded through his hair, massaging the conditioner in and enjoying the soft sighs of pleasure. Afterwards Jesse would comb it until it was almost dry, leaning in to rest his face against the soft mass and gently inhaling its scent. It relaxed Hanzo like nothing else, and if he woke during the night and couldn’t get back to sleep, all Jesse had to do was stroke his hair and he would be out like a light within minutes.

Jesse claimed not to be bothered by his own hair – he would run his fingers through it in lieu of combing it, but at least he washed it regularly. Hanzo enjoyed petting it, feeling the soft strands catch on his callused fingertips. He would never admit it, but Jesse hummed and purred like his cat, and Hanzo wouldn’t have been surprised to see him start kneading his hands on Hanzo’s leg, just like Tumbleweed did when Jesse gave him a brush.

In their later years, when the urge to have sex all the time had faded almost completely, they still derived great pleasure in playing with each other’s hair. Despite Jesse starting to thin on top and Hanzo’s hair becoming more coarse as it whitened, they could still be found curled up in the evenings, fingers tangled in each other’s hair.


	18. Instinct

Prompt: "More dragon nonsense! One of the dragons becomes enamoured with Jesse and starts following him everywhere -EVERYWHERE. It's starting to become a little exasperating because a guy needs time to himself, yeah? But it looks at him with those adoring eyes and wants to cuddle with him at night and he just can't say no to that. Hanzo looks grumpy about it but never mentions it until Jesse finally asks and Hanzo explains the dragons represent the duality of his personality. And that one loves Jesse."

 

Jesse initially didn’t have any objections when Udon started following him around.

He had quite the fondness for Hanzo’s dragons, often watching Hanzo sitting on the couch with Udon and Soba wrapped around him like giant long cats, bellies in the air for a scratch, whiskered faces resting against Hanzo’s. He’d tried to get close once or twice, but Soba invariably hissed at him and Hanzo would chuckle, warning him away until they got used to him.

Well, it seemed that Udon was certainly used to him. Jesse woke up one morning to find a gently snoring blue dragon in bed with him, surprisingly warm and firm for a spectral beast. He tentatively reached down and scratched his ears, and Udon woke slowly, stretched, and _purred_.

It was fucking adorable, and Jesse quickly grabbed his phone to send a photo to Hana and Lucio.

Having a spectral dragon in your bed was one thing. Having the damned thing follow you _everywhere_ was quite another. It didn’t take long before Jesse started to become a little exasperated with the entire situation. Going to the bathroom, for example, was something a fellow needed to do on his own, without a long blue cat wrapped around him like a scarf. But whenever he closed the door, Udon would whine and scratch until he realised he could just turn spectral and come in anyway.

It was hard to say no to such a beautiful creature, though. Udon seemed to know his moods, and whenever he sensed Jesse getting riled up, he turned his big eyes on him and purred quietly, and Jesse sighed.

Hanzo seemed to be somewhat put out by the entire thing. Jesse noticed him glaring across the room at him one morning as he stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes, Udon stretched around him and nuzzling his neck.

“I didn’t mean to poach your dragon, darlin’,” Jesse said carefully. He didn’t want to ruin his budding relationship with Hanzo, but it wasn’t his fault Udon had latched onto him so.

Hanzo sighed and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. Soba rubbed his face against Hanzo’s, letting out an inquisitive chirp. “You did not poach him,” Hanzo said tiredly. “He is driven by instinct, and no small measure of that comes from me.” Hanzo cleared his throat uncomfortably, glancing away, and Jesse dried his hands and came to sit next to him. He shyly slipped one hand into Hanzo’s, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand, and Hanzo relaxed a little.

“So he’s latched onto me because–” Jesse prompted.

“The dragons embody aspects of my personality. Soba – “ Hanzo scratched him under the chin, and he purred – “is more easily angered because that is the part of me that he senses most. Whereas Udon –”

“Yeah?” Jesse said encouragingly when Hanzo fell silent.

Hanzo turned slightly towards Jesse, angling his body so he could lean his head against Jesse’s shoulder. Udon chirped in excitement, purring in Jesse’s ear and sliding over so he was curled around both of them. “Udon senses those I care for deeply.”

Jesse’s heart skipped a beat, and he tilted Hanzo’s face up. “I’ll thank him later,” he murmured, and gently kissed him.

Udon wriggled in joy, and even Soba started purring again.


	19. Warmth

Prompt: "I also have this little strange hc that Gabe taught Jesse to knit, and he just knits scarves (like only scarves bc he loves them, obviously bc serape), and Hanzo has this old one that Jesse made for him when they first met and he takes it on missions and shit and has kept it forever, and even when Jesse offers to make him a new one he says "this one is fine" and FLUFF" 

 

“You can _knit_ ,” Hanzo said in surprise the first time Jesse pulled out a ball of yarn and his needles.

“Yeah?” Jesse sounded confused as he set to his task, hands flickering away on the needles. Hanzo watched silently for a moment, entranced by the soothing clicking sounds and the inexplicable fabric being produced.

“I – I just did not expect this of you,” Hanzo admitted, settling back and wishing he’d brought something to do himself. They were going to be stuck in this hideout for at least twelve hours until their pickup could extract them, and there were only so many times he could clean Stormbow.

Twelve hours later, Hanzo had cleaned Stormbow at least seven times, meditated for at least four hours, and slept as much as he could. Jesse, on the other hand, had produced exactly one scarf, striped in blue and yellow, and just before they were due to leave, he tied it off and handed it to Hanzo.

“Here, they’re your colours,” he said in an offhand way, and Hanzo melted a little inside.

 

“I can make you a new one, y’know,” Jesse offered as they huddled together. They were stuck in King’s Row during New Year, once again holed up in a hideout waiting for a pickup that was due in a few hours, and it was so cold Hanzo had barely hesitated before taking up Jesse’s offer to huddle together under his serape. Hanzo’s scarf – now battered, coming apart at the seams, and with a few holes in it – was warm around his neck, but he had definitely made poor attire choices elsewhere before this particular mission.

“This one is fine,” Hanzo said, touching the edges of it. He’d seen Jesse knit a dozen more in the past two years, not to mention at least three serapes in various colours – he refused to go out on missions with the man when he was wearing the one patterned like the goddamned American flag – and he had to admit that Jesse’s skill had increased markedly. But still. This one was perfect. The wool was soft and warm, not itchy at all after so many years of frequent use, and just the thought that Jesse had made it for him, in his colours specifically, always warmed him a little inside.

“If you insist,” Jesse said, sounding amused. He reached out to rub the edges, wincing a little at the holes and loose ends. “This was the first complete one I ever made. Gabe taught me how to knit, y’know.“

“He did?” Hanzo was surprised. From everything he’d heard about the former Blackwatch Commander, he was as tough as nails, and Hanzo couldn’t imagine him teaching Jesse how to knit. Perhaps they’d been in a similar situation to their current one – stuck waiting for a pickup, nothing to do, and teaching Jesse to knit had passed the time. Maybe it had even shut him up for a while.

Hanzo sighed softly and leaned closer, his hand brushing against Jesse’s under the serape. They both froze for an instant before carefully letting their fingers brush again, and Hanzo held his breath.

“Why did you make it for me?” he asked. He’d been wondering that for years. Most of the rest of the team now sported Jesse-made scarves, but he’d been the first. He’d only known Jesse for a few weeks at that stage, and he still remembered how happy it had made him to get such a unique and heartfelt gift. They had been good friends for years now, although Hanzo still hoped that they would one day be more.

Jesse was silent, and Hanzo glanced over at him to see him blushing slightly in the faint light. “I wanted you to feel welcome,” he said, but it didn’t seem like that was all.

“Jesse–”

“And I thought you were cute,” Jesse admitted.

Hanzo turned his face into Jesse’s shoulder and smiled, and beneath the serape their hands slid together in a warm grip.


	20. Kittens

Prompt: "Okay so kittens! They find a Momma cat out in the cold and bring her in, feed her up and keep her warm so she can have her kitties. Jesse loves her instantly. The dragons stare at her from across the room on the bed like who is this creature invading our space? But they leave the kitty alone until it's time for momma kitty to give birth. Hanzo can't find Momma cat or the Dragons until Jesse finds them all curled in the wardrobe with four new squirming jellybeans between them."

 

The new creature smelled odd.

Soba glared at her, hissing softly when she came too close. Udon seemed more inclined towards acceptance, batting Soba with a paw when he became too aggressive.

_What is your problem?_ Udon murmured as they coiled together one night.

_She smells strange. I don’t like her._ Soba was grumpy and twitchy, and Udon tightened his coils a little so they wouldn’t disturb their master and his mate.

_Deal with it,_ Udon almost snapped. This behaviour was becoming frustrating. He could understand where it was coming from, though – first their master had found a mate and now, just as the dragons had become used to Jesse’s loud and very physical presence, there was a small furry animal curled up in a blanket-lined box in the wardrobe. Her scent permeated the room, and it was starting to permeate their master as well. Udon grumbled to himself and went to sleep as Soba glared across the room and made discontented growls.

 

_Wake up!_

Udon stirred in annoyance. He had been having an amazing dream – he was huge, as big as he became when master summoned him and his brother, and they had been riding the skies together. The wind was in his mane and he could feel the warm, solid presence of his master atop his back. He cracked open an eye and glared at his brother, who was twitching excitedly beside him.

_What?_ He stretched and yawned, letting Soba’s excited chirps wash over him for a moment before he registered what was going on.

_There are small ones! It had babies! They are small!_ Soba slithered away, his tiny claws digging into Udon’s body as he scampered over him and landed on the floor before taking Udon’s tail between his teeth and dragging him a little. Fully awake now, Udon followed his brother to the cupboard.

Curled up in the box in the dim warmth, Udon saw what Soba had been talking about. The furry creature was no longer alone – now she had four small ones in there with her, tiny scraps of fur mewing softly and kneading her belly as they suckled milk from her.

_They’re so beautiful_ , Soba said, and Udon eyed his brother.

_I thought you didn’t like it_ , he replied.

Soba ignored him and carefully approached. The mother didn’t seem to consider him a threat, and it wasn’t long before he was coiled around her, keeping her warm as he watched the small creatures intently. Udon felt a swell of warmth within him, and joined his brother.

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on tumblr!](http://sherribonne.tumblr.com)


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